


The Fashionable Explanation

by MapleLantern



Category: American Horror Story: Asylum, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Horror, Gaslighting, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Multi, Murder, Past Sexual Abuse, Period Typical Attitudes, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11282757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleLantern/pseuds/MapleLantern
Summary: Accused of multiple homicide, Ben is transferred to a mental insitution as a holding pen to await trial. There he meets an interesting individual whom the other patients refer to only as 'the General'.





	The Fashionable Explanation

_**1965** _

_“What happened to you?”_

_The General looked like he’d been half drowned; his hair was dripping onto the floor and his lips were blue. His fingers were shaking, pinched around his customary cigarette and gripping the shawl edges together at his throat._

_“No c-concern of yours.” He muttered, curling into the chair beside Mitaka, who dutifully scooted over to make room._

_Curling his hands around the General’s frigid looking feet, Mitaka looked up at Ben and mumbled: “Hydro.”_

_Ben frowned. “What?”_

_“You’ll f-find out.” The General replied. “Cold water should have been the f-first thing they tried on y-you- Get away!”_

_He swatted at Mitaka, pulling his toes out of the other man’s grip and folding them beneath himself. The movement dislodged his shawl and it slithered off his shoulders before flopping to the floor._

_“Fuck-- Fuck!”_

_The second curse word was muffled through the material of Ben’s cowl, ensconced in which he had suddenly found himself. When he fought his way free, somehow managing to get his head and arms into the right sleeves, the General was almost spitting._

_“What the fuck was that?!”_

_Ben shrugged, kicking the threadbare shawl away into a corner and repositioning himself back in his seat._

_“It doesn’t need a pin.”_

_The General gave him a flat look, before looking down at the cowl and seeing that Ben was telling the truth._

_“No sharps for you either.” He muttered, more of a statement than a question._

_Ben snorted. “Like I need a sharp, General.”_

_“Careful, Ren. That’s beating talk.”_

_Ben stared at him for a moment, not sure if the man was telling him to lower his voice lest they be overheard or threatening to rat him out or both. He changed the topic._

_“Why do they call you that? The General. Even Phasma does it.”_

_The redhead smirked. “I heard you were cleverer than that.”_

_“Were you?”_

_“Was I?”_

_Ben could feel his frustration beginning to bubble into something else, and decided that storming away was better than a week of solitary for laying the other man out flat into a dripping, shivering puddle._

_Only later did he notice that his cowl hadn’t been returned._

 

 

_\----_

_\-------------_

_\---_

 

 

**1964**

Ben barely registered anything beyond being yanked out of the reinforced police van.

Bulbs from cameras were going off non stop, and so many people - reporters - were shouting at him that he couldn’t distinguish one voice from another. The officers either side of him were practically carrying him up the steps - were they going to trial already…? - barely allowing him the opportunity to walk on his own shackled feet. He wasn’t sure where he was. He was sure he had been at home. He had been shouting, and someone else had been shouting, but then it had turned into panicked screams…

Blood on the walls…

The freezing water he was doused in only served to further addled his thoughts rather than clear them, and when his surroundings finally came into clarity he was sitting in a drab, grey room. He twitched his fingers before clenching his fists. They felt like his own again, and he was back inside himself.

“It's an ordeal, I know. Our... ‘check-in’ procedures. Though, not a patch on what you put your victims through.”

The woman sitting beside the bed was a familiar face, although Ben couldn’t place a finger on why. He turned towards her voice, and only then realised that his wrists were bound to the bed he was lying on. He tugged on them experimentally. They didn’t budge.

“Here, you will repent for your crimes, Mr Solo. To the only judge that matters, the Almighty.”

Flopping back down onto the paper thin pillow, he shut his eyes.

Luke's screams...

  
“I didn't kill anybody. Those monsters did… they weren’t human...”

The woman beside him sighs, he hears it even as he feels tears leak down to splatter at the bridge of his ears.

“All monsters are human, Mr. Solo. You're a monster.”

**Author's Note:**

> I watched way too much American Horror Story... Asylum will always be my favourite.


End file.
